Death finds us mid our play-thingssnatches us,As a cross nurse might do a wayward child,From all our toys and baubles. His rough callUnlooses all our favourite ties on earth;And well if they are such as may be answerdIn yonder world, where all is judged of truly. Old Play; and see Seneca, Epi. XXIII.

And when obedient nature knows his will,A fly, a grapestone, or a hair can kill. Prior.Ode to the Memory of Villiers, Line 53. [The ripping of a hang-nail is sufficient to despatch us. We are afraid of inundations from the sea when a glass of wine, if it goes the wrong way, is enough to suffocate us. Seneca, Epi. XXIII. Pope Adrian IV, was choked by a fly.]

What day, what hour, but knocks at human hearts,To wake the soul to sense of future scenes?Deaths stand like Mercurys, in every way,And kindly point us to our journeys end. Dr. Young.Night VII. Line 2.

The sense of death is most in apprehension;And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,In corporal sufferance finds a pang as greatAs when a giant dies.Shakespeare.Measure for Measure, Act III. Scene 1. (Isabella to her brother.)

The weariest and most loathed worldly lifeThat age, ache, penury, and imprisonmentCan lay on nature, is a paradiseTo what we fear of death.Shakespeare.Measure for Measure, Act III. Scene 1. (Claudio to Isabella.)

As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath,Receives the lurking principle of death;The young disease, that must subdue at length,Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength. Pope.Essay on Man, Epi. II. Line 133.

Death hath ten thousand several doorsFor men to take their exits. John Webster.The Duchess of Malfy; Massinger.The Parliament of Love, Act IV. Scene 2.Death hath a thousand doors to let out life; Massinger.A Very Woman, Act V. Scene 4.

When I remember all The friends so linkd together,Ive seen around me fall, Like leaves in wintry weather;I feel like one who treads alone Some banquet hall deserted,Whose lights are fled, whose garlands dead, And all but he departed. Tom Moore.Oft in the Stilly Night, Stanza 2.

When in this vale of years I backward look,And miss such numbers, numbers too of such,Firmer in health, and greener in their age,And stricter on their guard, and fitter farTo play lifes subtle game, I scarce believeI still survive. Dr. Young.Night IV. Line 124.

Devouring famine, plague, and war, Each able to undo mankind,Deaths servile emissaries are, Nor to these alone confind, He hath at willMore quaint and subtle ways to kill;A smile or kiss, as he will use the art,Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart. Shirley.Cupid and Death.

Still at the last, to his beloved bowlHe clung, and cheerd the sadness of his soul;For though a man may not have much to fear,Yet death looks ugly, when the view is near. Crabbe.The Borough, Letter XVI.